


All Hallows Eve

by gestaltrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Gen Fic, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestaltrose/pseuds/gestaltrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween and the first time that eleven year old Sam Winchester gets to go trick-or-treating but unfortunately for Sam it's just another job for his father.  There is a ghost, salt and burn, and lots of fun to be had by all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Hallows Eve

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for lj community awdt, prompt: Trick or Treat

Slowly opening the door, the man laughed as he saw who was there.

“Trick or treat,” Sam said, at eleven he still looked nine. He was dressed up as a tinfoil monster. Standing a couple of feet behind him was Dean. Sam imagined that he was trying his ‘I am just here escorting my stupid brother and I am so bored’ look.

This was Dad’s job. Sam looked down the road behind Dean just to reassure himself that Dad was indeed still there leaning with his arms crossed against the Impala. His hands were shaking and he felt Dean put a steadying hand in the middle of his back. Looking up at the man as he stopped laughing, Sam said it again, holding his bag out. “Trick or treat.”

“Well boys,” the man said, stepping out of the door way. “I don’t have any candy, but I do have something better,” he held the door open and the dark doorway gaped in front of them.

“Really? What?” Dean asked sounding interested.

The man reached out to touch Sam but stopped and cocked his head at both of them.

“I think you are naughty boys who already know,” he said and grabbed Sam by the arm. He quickly let go as if he had been burned. “Who are you?” The man asked and Sam darted past him and poured some salt on the doorway.

“Good question,” Dad said as he cocked his gun and handed Dean the other shot gun. “Winchester,” Dad told the ghost as he shot him in the head.

Dean darted into the house past Sam, leaving him racing after Dean who quickly and methodically set about salting every window and door as Dad shot the spirit again. “Done Dad,” Dean yelled out the door and Sam watched as the ghost reappeared in front of their Dad.

Sam and Dean stood in the doorway, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Dad was talking low and quiet. The ghost glanced at them and Sam took a step back from the raw hunger that was on his face bumping into Dean. Dad had told them about the ghost before they had come here.

Apparently it only showed up on Halloween and it took one kid every seven years. Dad couldn’t make heads or tails of it. But the guy that had owned the house had been a real kid hater. Talking with the townsfolk everyone had stories about the Old Man in the spooky house. More than anything, he hated Halloween, and the kids knew it. They would trash his front yard every year, year after year. They killed his dog and strung it in a tree, at least that’s what one person told them. After that, he killed himself and he was buried, the house boarded up and the whole thing forgotten or at least not talked about.

It wasn’t until Dad was doing his research that he saw the pattern. All the kids in town knew to avoid the house, period and like good urban legends go, everyone knew why. But of course, kids being kids, they had to push it and so one kid every seven years for the last sixty years had disappeared. Dad had seen the pattern, found the house, and made his plan. Last night the three of them had stood around a grave that Dad had dug up, quick salt and burn. But it wasn’t that easy. Something else was holding this guy here.

Sam was the one who thought of the dog and Dad considered it as they had watched the house in the twilight. Deciding Dad made a plan and so Sam was dressed up in tinfoil laced with salt and Dean had been lugging salt around in the trick or treat bag that Dad had bought for them. Dad thought he had it all worked out. The guy turned again laughing at something Dad had said and Dad looked worried.

“Shit,” Dean said.

Looking closer Sam could see the ghost pointing at something. Where the dog was, maybe? He looked at Dad who, glancing over at the two of them nodded slightly. Dean was watching as closely as Sam. “Fine, we do this. I’ve got the shovel, you got my back?” Sam nodded and Dean handed him the shotgun. Putting it in one hand with what was left of the salt in the other he looked at Dean. “Come on,” Dean said, stepping over the salt in the doorway.

Sam followed Dean closely, Sam watching Dean and Dean looking at Dad who was still talking with the ghost. What the hell could Dad be saying to him? Dean finally stopped under an old oak tree that loomed out of the darkness over them. Spying a small, handmade cross that was broken off and mostly rotted away, Dean began digging. Sam quickly poured salt all around them, making a circle of white in the darkness.

“Goddamned kids,” Sam heard the ghost say and looked up to see it on the other side of the circle. Dean dug faster. Sam cocked the shotgun. He couldn’t shoot it without it bruising the hell out of his shoulder but for Dean he would do it. Tucking it against his shoulder he pointed it at the old man.

“Sam,” Dad said quietly and Sam didn’t look away from the ghost.

“Yeah?” he said the sound of Dean’s shovel hitting wood made him jump a little.

“Now son,” Dad said and Sam looked at him, Dad nodded.

Looking back at the ghost Sam said, “I’m sorry about your dog.” The ghost froze and looked past Sam at Dean. Sam heard salt being poured and lighter fluid being spread, then there was a woosh and the ghost was gone. Sam stared at where he’d been.

“Come on boys,” Dad said as he turned and started walking towards the car.

“Dad,” Dean said as he got his gun back from Sam. Gathering what was left of the supplies, Dean took them all to their father. Dad stopped and looked at Dean. “I think,” Dean took a breath, “I think Sam ought to go to a few houses. We’ve never trick-or-treated since Mom. . .” Dean stopped and tried to redirect, he obviously didn’t want Dad thinking about Mom. “I mean, Sam’s never. . .”

“Go on then,” Dad said. “I’ll watch from the car.”

Dean flashed Dad a grin and turned to Sam. “Well Sammy, now’s your chance to make a haul.”

“Dean, what if I don’t wanna. . .”

Dean shut him up. “Trust me, you do.”


End file.
